The White Lily

by Susanne Matthews

  “What can we do?”

  “I have a few detectives skirting the crowd looking for likely suspects since these people often get off on the aftermath of the damage they cause.”

  “Have them watch for a woman who seems to be engrossed in the situation but who’s concentrating on the caregivers and the injured rather than the scene itself. Any note or message accepting responsibility?”

  “Not yet.”

  “When can we go inside?” Lilith asked. “I can get a better idea of the bomber’s frame of mind if I can see where the bomb was placed. Maybe somewhere else would’ve meant more casualties, and she was hoping to frighten rather than kill.”

  “The fire’s out, but we have to wait for the all clear from the fire captain. His men are checking the structural integrity and searching to make sure there isn’t another bomb. It shouldn’t be long now.”

  A fireman hurried over to the command area. “Captain Edwards?”

  “That’s me.”

  “My lieutenant wants you guys to see this before anyone else gets in there.”

  Had they found another body? Maybe another backpack that had failed to go off?

  Edwards motioned for them to follow. The fireman led them into the damaged building. “There’s a lot of broken glass and shrapnel, so be careful,” he said as he opened the door to the ladies’ washroom. “In here. We were checking to make sure there wasn’t another bomb when one of the guys saw this.”

  He pushed open the door on the first stall. Scrawled in red lipstick on the metal wall were words that froze Lilith’s blood.

  “Let all my people go. A plague each fortnight until you do.”

  It was signed with the initial H.

  “Does this mean what I think it does?” Rob asked.

  “I’d say so,” Lilith answered, her stomach roiling at the implications. “He wants them all back, and the longer it takes for him to get what he wants, the more people will suffer and die. It’s a pretty clear, biblical reference to the ten plagues of Egypt, and from what I remember, those went from bad to worse.”

  “Son of a bitch. Nothing, not a word, not a note, not a sighting from the Prophet or his followers in over two months, then wham! First the murders and kidnappings, and now this. There’s no way we can sweep this under the rug. As soon as people learn the Harvester is back and this time he’s planting bombs, Boston will be thrown into the same kind of terror it was after the marathon bombings.”

  “The jail!”

  “What about it?”

  “This could be a distraction. How many police are here?”

  “Pretty damn near everyone on duty, but don’t worry. The jail’s secure.”

  “I hope to hell you’re right. We’ll be in a hell of a mess if he plans a jailbreak while we’re all busy here.”

  Rob frowned. “Let me make a call.”

  Lilith nodded. It was better to be safe than sorry.

  Rob hung up and moved back beside her. “Trevor agrees with you, and he’s doubling the guards as we speak and shutting down the entire facility.”

  “How can he do that?”

  “Health hazard. Didn’t you hear? There’s a bad case of norovirus going through the place. You wouldn’t want to get stomach flu, would you?”

  “And what about tomorrow?”

  Rob chuckled. “You’ll be an angel of mercy assisting the doctor. I just wish I didn’t feel as if we’re missing something again.”

  “I don’t believe in coincidence any more than you do. Jacob said his uncle was a powerful man eighteen years ago, and he’s had time to hone his influence. He’s had hands and eyes inside the investigation before. I know Trevor says we’re clean, but it could be anyone—a damn custodian in the building. What if the Harvester has learned Jacob’s here and has decided now’s the time to act? He can implicate his nephew or, at the very least, cast doubts about his innocence, maybe even force him to seek shelter with the cult.”

  “Not sure about that last part. If the Harvester knows Jacob’s alive and in Boston, the last thing he wants is for his followers to know it, too. They believe Jacob died in the desert, and another man rising from the dead is unwanted competition.”

  “Could he have decided to take advantage of the situation to frame his nephew? Because if he did, like the garrote around Bryan Winchester’s neck, there’ll be no escaping his trap.”

  “But he doesn’t know Jacob has a solid alibi. He couldn’t have been involved tonight. He was with us. Here’s the captain.”

  “It sure as hell looks as if someone’s giving us an ultimatum,” Edwards said. “Do you know who he’s referring to? And H?”

  “Unfortunately, we do,” Rob said. “It means the Harvester’s back in town and wants his people released, and I can assure you that’s going to be a problem.”

  “I thought that son of a bitch was dead,” the captain said. “What the hell’s going on?”

  While Rob explained everything to a highly annoyed Captain Edwards, Lilith crossed the room, careful not to touch anything, until she reached the section of the bar that had been the focal point of the explosion. Judging from the shrapnel embedded in the nearby walls and tables, the bag had been placed on a barstool at one of the tall tables, where the flying objects had hit people in the face and upper body. Had it been placed on a regular chair, hips and lower abdomens would’ve been the target. On the floor, damage would’ve been limited to the lower legs. There was no doubt in her mind the bag had been placed where it would do the most damage.

  Lilith recognized the pub. It was the one they’d taken her to for the meet and greet. It was a favorite haunt for the task force members and other Boston police officers.

  “Munroe,” Rob called. “Seen enough?”

  She took one more look around and then followed the men out of the building. The firefighters were boarding up the front of the bar to keep the gawkers away. Somehow, they had to keep that message out of the news.

  “Enough for now. So, what do we do?”

  “We go home and get some sleep. Boston PD has this under control, and we know we aren’t looking at a foreign terrorist. Tom’s going to drive you back to your hotel—it’s on his way—and we’ll send someone to pick up your car tomorrow. There’ll be a squad car there for you at seven.”

  “Ready, Lilith?” Tom asked.

  Lilith nodded. Ten plagues ... each one supposedly worse than the rest. In the biblical version, for the first plague, Moses had used his staff to turn the water in the Nile to blood. She swallowed. In his own way, the Prophet had orchestrated that here. Blood covered the floors where broken mugs and glasses sat—water, or in this case beer, turned to blood. So what could they expect next?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Lilith picked at the carrot muffin she’d chosen from the box, not really hungry for it but knowing she had to float something solid in her stomach full of coffee. Sleep had been a long time coming, and when it had, the dreams she barely remembered had been peppered with images of Jacob. The fact that the man of her musings had arrived early, bringing the coffee and muffins the task force was consuming, just made it harder to focus on what was going on.

  Jessup, one of the uniformed officers assisting the team, sat at the end of the table, sipping her coffee. From her red eyes and the dejected look of her face, news of the bombing had hit her hard. Lilith knew the three rookies were close, having been in the same graduation class.

  “What do you think, Munroe?” Rob asked.

  She pulled her eyes away from the young officer. “There was a reason he chose that particular pub,” she said. “Do we know who was killed?”

  “One of the waitresses, a regular who was shooting pool, and Colin King, a member of this task force. He leaves behind a wife and six-month-old son. He and Connors worked late finishing up some video searches for the dark van and stopped off for a beer and a bite to eat on their way home. Connors was badly injured.”

  Damn. Her worst fears had just been confirmed.


  “How is he?” she asked.

  “He’s in serious but stable condition,” Jessup said. “I stopped by the hospital on the way in this morning. He definitely won’t be back for several months.”

  Tom scowled. “Presuming the H stands for the Harvester, and based on the eyewitnesses, there’s no way in hell Pierce delivered that bomb, so who did?”

  “It still has to be someone from New Horizon, doesn’t it?” Jacob asked, looking up from the crime scene photographs.

  “Unfortunately, yes,” Lilith said. “I don’t see the Prophet going to some assassin for hire for this. Pierce might have, but that doesn’t sit right with what we know about him. The eyewitness from the Richardson killings told us Pierce had someone in the van with him, and we concluded there had to be two people to take down the Winchesters. The witness couldn’t say if it was a man or a woman, but the people in the bar swear the bomb was left by a woman. Maybe she’s his accomplice.”

  “Doesn’t that strike you as odd?” Jacob asked. “From what Faye said last night and what I gleaned from that damn manifesto, I assumed the women in the cult weren’t allowed to dress in jeans, drink alcohol, or mix with the public that way. Having a woman deliver the bomb doesn’t really suit New Horizon’s philosophy. It’s giving her a soldier’s responsibility, a job I’d have thought would be restricted to men.”

  “I agree. You’re the analyst, Munroe,” Trevor said. “What’s going on here?”

  “Using a woman could’ve been done deliberately to confound us. The fact she wasn’t a suicide bomber leaves her hanging over our heads like some damn Sword of Damocles, but woman or not, based on the biblical reference and the demand to free his people, we have to assume the Prophet’s behind it. Put yourselves in his place. He believes he’s on a mission from God. Who’s responsible for stopping him?”

  “The task force,” Tom said.

  “So, if he wants to be left alone to go about his business, that’s who he targets.”

  “According to the witnesses,” Tom said, “that woman hung around for more than four hours. She sat near the pool table—why? She didn’t seem interested in any of the games played while she was there.”

  “Because King always played pool to relax,” Rob stepped into the discussion. “Everybody knows that. He joked he’d paid his way through police college hustling pool. I can believe it, too. He cleaned my clock more than once.” He sobered. “The woman waited for him to come in like he always did. But how did she know? She wasn’t a regular.”

  “She knew because the Prophet did. His goal is to eliminate the task force. Garett Pierce knows everything there is to know about you guys, and what Pierce knows, the Prophet knows. That makes you vulnerable. Those plagues may be aimed at us, but he won’t care how much collateral damage he does in the process.”

  “I knew Pierce had to be involved somehow,” Trevor said.

  “The Prophet won’t stop at us,” Lilith added, knowing her words would upset the others. “Those closest to us are targets, too. We took out one of the Chosen and took away people he considered his property. Now, he has someone taking away what’s ours, while his new Harvester recovers what he considers his. He’s dividing our resources. We all know this bombing is going to take precedence over the kidnappings, especially since there’s a dead officer involved. The commissioner is going to be screaming for heads. Too many people saw the writing on that wall. Someone’s bound to leak it, and if they do ...”

  “We’ll have mass panic. I knew I picked the right profiler for the job,” Trevor said and winked. “Lilith’s right. The first order of business will be to protect your families. With King dead, his wife and son are probably safe—no leverage there—but the Prophet could easily go after the others. I’ll talk to the marshals and see if we can use some of their safe houses. We’ve got six people and extended families to cover. Jacob, I think you’re off the hook since you weren’t part of the team Pierce worked with. If he does find out you’re here, then that’s a different story. Tom, any chance you can get your wife and daughter to visit your wife’s family? I’ll pay for the flight.”

  “A free trip to Scotland? I don’t think it’ll be a problem.”

  “What about you, Lilith? Is there anyone close to you we should be looking after?”

  “No, I’m a lone wolf.” None of them needed to know exactly how alone that was.

  Trevor nodded. “As for me, I’ll arrange for protection for my family. My parents and brother live in Tacoma, so they may be far enough away to be off the radar, but ... That leaves Faye and her mother. What about sending them back to Maine?”

  “No, that place is too isolated. If anything happened, it would be hard to get to them. Maybe I can send them on an Alaskan cruise,” Rob joked.

  Tom chuckled. “I’d offer Hawaii. It’s getting cold in Alaska at this time of year, and I know how much Faye hates the cold.”

  “The offer for Melbourne still stands,” Jacob said, drawing Lilith’s attention back to him. “The temperature’s a little cooler than here at the moment, high fifties, since it’s still winter, but it’ll warm up as spring and summer arrive.”

  “I’ll run it by her again. She wasn’t too happy with me last night for bringing it up the way I did in front of you.”

  That was probably an understatement. Given Faye’s personality, they’d probably had a hell of an argument.

  “The Prophet’s using the plagues as a cover for specific, individual killings,” Lilith added, needing to stay focused. “That’s how he handles disobedience, right? And in his books, we’ve been very, very bad. In the first plague, water to blood, King was his intended target. Connors was collateral damage, but he’s not safe. None of us are. Plague two consists of frogs, and I have no idea how he’ll spin that.”

  “For what it’s worth,” Jacob said, “a frog can refer to a medieval holder for a knife or a sword that fits over a belt.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Quite a few of the boys on the farm are into role-playing games. They sometimes actually dress up in gear they purchase online.”

  “That makes sense,” Tom said. “I took my family to something like that when we went to Florida years ago. Knights in armor jousting.”

  “So, let’s assume this next plague will involve a knife attack of some sort. I don’t see a woman doing that, but ... The worst plague will be the tenth one, death of a firstborn,” Lilith said.

  Rob’s face was ashen.

  “We aren’t going to let him get to two, let alone ten,” Trevor said with conviction. “We’ll eliminate as many of his targets as we can. That should be enough to make him angry and flush him out.”

  “I agree,” said Jacob. “My uncle won’t take kindly to having his plans foiled a second time.”

  “In the meantime, do we have anything new?” Trevor asked. “I’d like to have something to report when the director calls.”

  “I’ve got an ID on Amos’s floater,” Jessup said. “He’s a Bostonian and black, so he’s probably not part of this. Calvin Cross was a retired security guard who moonlighted as a gumshoe with one of the companies here in Boston.”

  “That’s the man who found Eloise for me,” Jacob said, his eyes widening as the horror dawned on him. “He’s dead because of me ... because I hired him to find my sister.”

  He hung his head, and Lilith longed to comfort him, but what could she say?

  “Not because of you,” Rob said, offering the solace she couldn’t. “Because of that sick son of a bitch you’re related to. You’ve got broad shoulders, mate, but you can’t take on the blame that belongs to him and Pierce.” He patted him on the back. “I know what’s burning in your gut; it’s burning in mine, too. It’s the need for justice, and by God, we’ll get it.” He turned to Lilith. “So, we’ve got another innocent to lay at the Prophet’s feet. But I still don’t understand why he’d move so far away from his own philosophy to come after us. Pierce can’t be the only executioner he has. I can see a woman
as the accomplice—she looks after the children, feeds them etc., but as an executioner? No.”

  “You’re right; it doesn’t fit with what we know,” she agreed, “especially when the woman sat there by herself for several hours, but the ultimatum was scrawled on the wall in the women’s washroom, and it would’ve taken a few minutes to write it, not to mention a few tubes of lipstick. She didn’t want us to miss it. A man entering the women’s washroom would’ve been noticed.”

  “Agreed, but could it have been a young man masquerading as a woman?” Jacob asked. “You told me my uncle wears a disguise, why not someone else? I mean considering what I know about the cult, it makes more sense Pierce would travel with a man rather than a woman.”

  “I don’t like this, Jacob, but I think you could be right,” Trevor said. “People see what they expect to see. Talk to the witnesses again. Have them describe the clothes, the way the person moved, anything that’ll give you a better idea about the son of a bitch. He or she is either looking at the death penalty or life in prison without the possibility of parole. There’s no place in this country for terrorists—foreign or domestic. Don’t discount anything.”

  “If he’s using boys and young men to do this,” Jacob said, “it could be because he’s testing out his delivery system for the biological attack.”

  “The other farm! Son of a bitch,” Tom said, slamming his fist on the desk.

  “What other farm?” Jacob and Lilith spoke simultaneously.

  “In Slocum, where the cult originally set up, there were two farms,” Rob explained. “The women were kept at the horse farm, but there were men and teenaged boys on a nearby mixed farming operation. When we rescued the women from the secondary location in New Hampshire, we assumed the men and boys had gone off to the Promised Land, but what if they didn’t? What if they’re still in the area, keeping an eye on us, on the people we have in jail? How did they know where Ethan Newcomb was?”